


The Thing With Watching The Thing

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Sorkinverse RPF, Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-12
Updated: 2006-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know, there was this one time Schiff had a notebook...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Thing With Watching The Thing

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://fox1013.livejournal.com/profile)[**fox1013**](http://fox1013.livejournal.com/) is an enabler.
> 
> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

"What's in the notebook?"

"Notebook?" Matt swept the slim volume into the top drawer of Matt Albie's Studio 60 desk. "It's a thing. Prop."

"Lemme see." Brad reached for the drawer and Matt slapped his hand away. "Ouch! What'd you do that for?"

"It's my prop!"

"You know, Matt," Brad said slowly, "Schiff used to take the prop notebooks home. We eventually had to get him some help. Do you need help?"

"No!" Matt gestured for Brad to come closer. " Look, it's not a prop, okay? It's my notebook. I'm using it for research."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Aaron." Matt beamed and spread his arms wide. "I'm studying Aaron."

"Okay, yeah, this is worse than Schiff." Brad shook his head. "I'm calling Amanda."

"Why are you calling Amanda?"

"Because you're taping shut a drawer in a fake desk in order to pretend to hide the notebook in which you are keeping notes about our boss. And also because Allison doesn't work on this show."

"She should, though, don't you think?"

Momentarily distracted, Brad nodded, and didn't notice Matt slipping by him until he heard noises from the hallway. "Yeah, way worse than Schiff."

* * *

 

"I can see you."

Matt stood very still and pursed his lips as if to whistle nonchalantly.

"Matthew. You." Aaron accepted yet another carrot juice-wheat germ-whatever-the-hell-it-was from the waiter and pretended to not notice the script that was delivered along with it. "I can see you. You're standing right there."

"No I'm not."

"Now you're talking to me."

"No I'm not."

"You just talked to me to tell me you're not talking to me." He gagged on the juice before putting the glass down and wiping a napkin across his lips. Wouldn't do to have orange, green, or brown stuff stuck to his mouth. Photographers were everywhere. "Are you doing drugs again?"

Matt narrowed his eyes and moved closer to the table, dropping his voice to the very definition of a stage whisper. "Are you?" He moved even closer. "Should I be?"

"No." Aaron paused for a moment and weighed the pros and cons before finally deciding that he was too closely associated with the character of Matt Albie and he didn't want anyone thinking he was fat if and when Matt gained any weight. "And no."

"Oh." Matt frowned. "Because I would."

"Danny had the drug problem."

"Right." Matt brightened. "So you want Brad to take drugs!"

"No." Although, and this made him laugh to himself, maybe the drugs would help Brad find a hair color that suited him. Jane would kick his ass, though, and then Aaron would have to write a broken arm or two into the script and that might lead to introducing the character with traumatic past haunted by their dead sibling thing too early. Plus he was thinking about giving that to the skinny kid. Those Daily Show fans seem to like him. "Why don't you sit down and join me?"

"I can't." Matt brushed a finger across the side of his nose and twitched one eye. "It interferes with the process." He grabbed a piece of lettuce from the remnants of Aaron's salad and crunched it happily. "Thanks, though."

"I hate myself," Aaron muttered behind his napkin. "What's the process?"

Matt waved his hands about. "You know, the thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing where watching a thing leads to, you know, thing."

"Right." Aaron pulled some cash from his wallet and stuck it between the pages of the waiter's script. "I'm leaving now. Don't follow me."

"You won't even know I'm there."

* * *

 

"Why, again, are you calling me?"

"Because Matt has a notebook."

Amanda sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. Not bad, kind of hot, really, and nowhere did it say Notebook Expert on her forehead. And at least she got to wear pretty dresses. "It's because Allison doesn't work on this show, isn't it?"

"Well, she was really good with Schiff..."

"From what I've heard Schiff thought he was Toby Ziegler so Allison put on beige slacks and a boring top and told him the President wanted to see him in the Oval so he had to come out of the bathroom and put on some pants." She groaned when Brad mumbled something about how that was true. "Oh, god, tell me Matt has pants on."

"Last I saw, yeah."

"So what do you want me to do?"

* * *

 

"He has a what?"

"Notebook. Amanda said he has a notebook."

Sarah shrugged her shoulders. "We're having a meeting because a man has a notebook?"

"No." D.L. unscrewed the top on the water bottle Sarah had been struggling with then handed it back to her. "We're having an _intervention_ because a man has a notebook."

"Are notebooks bad?" Nate asked, looking guiltily at his duffel bag. He could call it a diary if they wanted, but notebook had always sounded so much better.

Tim leaned in the doorway. "You know, there was this one time Schiff had a notebook..."

"Good, good," Brad pulled Tim along with him as he entered the room. "You're all up to speed, good." He took a marker from his pocket and began to write on a piece of paper he'd previously taped to the wall. "Matt, as you all know now, has a notebook."

"Oh my god, I'm sorry!" Nate wailed as he threw himself on his bag and dug through it until he found what he was looking for. "I'm sorry! It's just a diary! Sometimes I write about my feelings! I didn't know notebooks were bad!" He turned to D.L. "You don't hate me, do you?"

"Jesus, now we're having two interventions."

* * *

 

"I know it's you."

Matt looked down at his disguise. He'd thought for sure he blended in. After all, he'd seen Aaron ignore people dressed like this every day for three weeks now. "But... I..." he extended the menu in his hand. "Juice, sir?"

"We're in my office, Matt. You followed me from the restaurant and now we're in my office." He reached for the menu and Matt snatched it away. "What are you hiding behind the menu? Is that a notebook?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, god." Aaron gestured toward a chair and waited until Matt sat down to speak. "Look. Your name is Matthew Perry. Toby Ziegler was a fictional character. Now keep your pants on just in case the President needs to see you in the Oval." He smiled at a job well done.

Matt was enthusiastically writing something in the notebook. "No drugs," he mumbled. "Don't need. Pants."

"You need pants. Everyone needs pants." Aaron's voice rose in panic. "Keep your pants on, Matt!" He buzzed his assistant. "Get Mr. Perry some pants. And get Whitford on the phone!"

"Mr. Whitford is here, sir. Along with Ms. Peet, Mr. Hughley, Ms. Paulson, and Mr. Busfield. Oh, and Mr. Corddry is crying behind my desk."

"Send them in?"

"Hey, Aaron," Tim said when he entered the office. "Remember when Schiff had a notebook?"

He nodded dumbly. "Yeah?"

"Well this is worse."

"You guys!" Matt jumped up from his chair. "You're interfering with the thing!"

"Yeah, about your thing." Brad put his arm around Matt's shoulder and sat him back down. "We want to talk to you about your thing."

Aaron felt a tugging on his pants leg and he instinctively pulled away. "I'm sorry," Nate whispered. "I had a notebook."

"We told you, Corddry, your notebook was just fine." D.L. scowled when Matt tried to interrupt him. "Yours is not. Corddry has a diary with a little key and a pony on the front, you have a stalker notebook that is maybe made out of Aaron's skin."

Tim smirked. "Yeah, way worse than Schiff."

"Skin!" Aaron raised his feet until they were balanced on his chair. "Who has a skin notebook!"

"Matt does."

"I do not!"

"Look, you stalker freak, cut it out!" Amanda grabbed Matt by the collar and shook him none too gently. "You're creeping us out! You're creeping Aaron out! And you know what happens when you creep Aaron out? Do you? DO YOU!"

"No?"

"I have to wear beige slacks!" She shook Matt once more for good measure then stared into his eyes. "So you gonna knock this off or what?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Damn straight." She brushed off her hands on her skirt and stomped out of the office. "God _damn_ straight."

Aaron watched in amazement as his cast filed out of his office in her wake, Tim taking the notebook from Matt's slack fingers and laughing as he paged through it. He could almost feel how this was going to work out.

"So who plays Matt when Matt is playing you?" Sarah asked, pausing on her way out. She shook her finger at him when he shook his head in denial. "Please, Aaron, everything with you is a story." She turned around one more time before leaving. "Amanda really doesn't like beige slacks, does she?"


End file.
